Aftershock
by Fleirn
Summary: She never missed what she had till it was gone. Bree.


Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. But I own this story.

A/n: this came into my mind on the spur of the moment, and i just had to rush it out. Enjoy!

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**Aftershock**

_"Rex passed away about ten minutes ago."  
_

Her mind ceased to hear anymore after that line. The words Dr. Craig continued to utter were meaningless, and ceased to exist. It seemed as though all sound was non existent, and she was in a soundproof room, with echoes of that line bouncing incessantly off the walls.

All that she could hear now were the words 'passed away', and the torturous words spun round and round in her mind, leaving dizzying circles in their wake.

Rex was gone, she realised, as her mind still tried to comprehend the sudden news.

To come to terms with the news in all its shocking horror.

First came the horror, the questions arrived next.

Why could he not last till tomorrow? After all he had –they had –been through, she had expected him to hang on to that last thread of life he still had. At least till the operation.

So near, yet so far.

His hope of a new life was all bound in tomorrow, but that hope was extinguished in the bleakness that was today.

She had told him, "the best was yet to come," even she had believed in it herself.

Now, the best was never yet to come. It would just be a passing dream, one that she had always wanted to get a hold of, the one that always slipped away. It was the one that danced on the sidelines, while she was in the playing field, taunting her, teasing her. One that she could never get unless there was a timeout.

The one that would always be _just_ out of reach.

And she knew, she would live with that knowledge of being so _very_ close to that new life, that new start that she so craved, and never had.

She barely remembered what she uttered in answer to Dr Craig's queries. Barely remembering replacing the phone back into its cradle, and making her way into the kitchen. She knew she had tried to finish polishing the silver, furiously attacking them till they glinted in the dim light and blinded her, so that the task would be over and done with.

She briefly remembered holding on the knife, and wondering whether it was sharp enough; briefly remembered thinking of sharpening it, so that it would cut through flesh like butter.

But even this memory was but a faint blur.

There was when she had kept the silver where it belonged on the shelf, and straightening the tablecloth. Creases had always upset her.

She knew not why, but as she stepped back from the table, her heel met with the chair leg, and it suddenly seemed that her legs were unable to support her anyone. She needed to sit down, and the chair was somehow conveniently placed to catch her.

She frowned even as she crumpled into the high-backed chair. This was unlike her. She would have pushed the chair to the side, and replaced it after she was done.

Something was wrong.

The details of the phone call started flooding back in full force.

She remembered having put a barrier in front of it, the walls strong and sturdy. But even as she polished and cleaned, subconsciously, she could feel the walls cracking, not so much, but just so that a trickle got through.

But now.

She stared straight ahead, refusing to accept the bare facts that were laid before her eyes. It was a hoax! It had to be! Perhaps it was the Doctor's idea of a sick joke, or Rex's idea of pulling her leg.

Her eyes slowly, deliberately travelled the length of the table.

There was Andrew's place –vacant for a while some time ago, that was Danielle's and…

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared blankly at the seat on the opposite end of the table. The chair stayed there, silently looking back at her, an omnipresent reminder of what she had just so recently lost.

Rex.

She had thought that if she did not let the news affect her, there would be no wound, no wound to need tending to. There would be no wound to remind her of anything.

Just as it seemed, life had a knack of proving her wrong these days.

The unseen, and unknown wound burst open with the force of a breaking dam.

_"Rex passed away about ten minutes ago."_

The line ran again through her mind. She was in a daze then, but now clarity brought a whole new meaning to it.

Clarity brought with it self-admonishment. And with that she silently blamed herself for all those times she had lost faith in Rex, all those times when she had chided him on changing pharmacists. She berated herself for not knowing better, for being lulled into that false sense of security that George would never do anything to harm her, nor the family she worked so hard at creating.

The realisations hurt. And so did the wound.

She had learned as a child to keep her emotions in check, and she did. She had always thought that if they were kept proper, there would be less chances of things going wrong, and thus she did as she was to her life, her house, and everything, everyone else whom she loved.

The plan that she made all those years ago had finally chosen to backfire on her.

Her life was falling apart, and she had no control over it any longer.

With it were released the tight reins that held her emotions in check.

For the first time in her life, she cried out loud in anguish.

And with that cry was the knowledge that she had lost someone dear to her heart. Someone that she never really appreciated. Someone that she would give her life for to be with again. For another lifetime, for another day, just to be with him again, and that would be enough for her.

She cried for all the heartbreak and misery that she had put him through, for the countless times when she had mistrusted him, for those times when she doubted him, when she believed that he did not love her anymore.

She cried for the times that just recently passed, her wanting of a divorce, the arguments they had, the peace talks she rebuffed and rejected, the coldness with which she treated him by after his infidelity episodes.

She cried till her throat was sore, and her tears had all dried up on her face, leaving shiny trails down her cheeks. She knew her makeup was ruined, she cared not. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was reminded that the tablecloth was crease, but it just slipped her mind.

No, nothing was as important as Rex now.

And she hated herself for noticing it too late.

But now she could not change the past, as much as she wanted to. All she could do was get ready for what was to come, to face their children, and to comfort them.

Slowly, she got up and wiped away her tears, straightening the tablecloth.

She had a funeral to prepare.

END.

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Would you be ever so kind to help me review? Thanks. 


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